A Real Doctor
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Inspired by Rumplestiltskin's 'Illusion' and written with permission. Henry and the boy meet again many years later.


**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**_AN: English translations of French are at the bottom of the page. Merci beaucoup!_**

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_c. 1918, France_

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Henry lay on the ground, his hands struggling to put enough pressure on the deep gash across his abdomen. Staring up at the dark sky, he wondered how long it would be until he died; wondered if his attacker had already fled or if he was in the vicinity and would see the corpse disappear. His hand slipped in the slick blood covering him and he winced at the pain.

Suddenly, his view of the stars was blocked as a stranger knelt beside him. Hands checked his pulse and then moved down to apply pressure to the gash; and Henry tried to push the man away, to hide his secret. He couldn't risk it – he had to send the stranger away.

"Non. Permetezz-moi d'aider."

The hands pushed harder and Henry tried to smother the cry of pain. "No, stop – arrêtez..." He felt sleep pulling at him, and turned to fall into it, pulled back by the voice beside him.

"Doctor! Non – I will not lose you again; you must stay awake!"

Henry tried to obey, warnings ringing in his mind about the title given him; but in vain, for the blackness covered all. The last thing he was aware of was the stranger's French and English mutterings, and the thought that he didn't want to have to find a new set of garments.

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_1903, England_

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_Henry's teeth were clenched around the rags that had long since leeched all moisture from his mouth. He stared at the ceiling above him, crying from the agony that filled his torso. He had tried to stop crying, to avoid the tears running down his throat into his lungs and causing him to cough; but was unable to anymore._

_How long had he laid here, strapped to the table and trapped in never-ending agony – how long would he continue in this state? Exhausted, he barely moved anymore; barely flinching from their prodding and the new cuts he was subjected to. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he still prayed for death; still cried out against the cruel and inhumane way they treated him – as if he was no longer one of them, no longer worth consideration of pain, of thirst, or of fear._

_He had stopped tracking the movements of the men around him shortly after the moment they cut out his rib cage, not wanting to torture himself more with anticipation of what would come next. He pitied the boy – he had been caught up in something he didn't fully understand, and now couldn't find a way out of it. Henry was glad the boy hadn't killed him; he was too young to be burdened with that – even if it was only temporary._

"_Boy!"_

_Henry jerked, stilling with a cry as he was reminded of the mess made of his torso. Blinking the room into focus, he could see the boy standing beside him flinch, having not expected the shout either._

"_I said hand me the forceps!"_

_Henry sighed, struggling to ignore the men moving around him and the clank of metal as the boy obeyed._

"_I said now!"_

_Henry felt the boy lean over him, and then hesitate. He glanced over and saw the boy looking at him; and in that moment, Henry would have done anything to erase this whole affair from the boy's life – even to the point of volunteering for this dissection himself. Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement as the boy jerked the forceps out of the man's reach and snatched up a spare scalpel with his other hand. With a burst of determination, the boy buried the scalpel in Henry's heart, twisting it once before he was pulled away by the other men in the room._

_Fresh pain enveloped Henry; and he automatically gasped for breath, choking on the rags. As he sank limply back onto the slab, blackness devouring his site and the sounds of angry men fading away; he wished with all his heart that he could thank the boy that had just freed him, at tremendous cost to himself._

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Henry jerked upright with a gasp, his hands automatically coming up to shield himself from attackers that were no longer there. As he pulled his hands towards him, one pulled against a rope; and he began shaking again as he dimly realised he was trapped. Suddenly, the pain in his abdomen made itself known with severe intensity, and he collapsed back with a strangled cry.

"Dr. Morgan – calm yourself! You're safe!"

The stranger jumped to Henry's side from the chair he had placed beside the bed, woken by the tug on the rope he had tied between their wrists. Seeing the Doctor pull at the rope, he snatched up a scalpel to cut it; flinching, but stubbornly continuing when Henry jerked away at the sight.

"Henry, calm down – you'll rip out the stitches if you aren't still!"

The stranger tried to calm Henry, to keep him from undoing the progress that had been made; but the Doctor was trapped in his nightmare, thrown back within it by the circumstances of his awakening. Finally, at a loss for what else to do, the man pinned Henry to the bed, constantly talking in French.

Eventually, the worst of Henry's struggles stilled, and the man released him.

"Vous êtez calme, oui?" The stranger reached out and gently untied the remnants of the rope from around Henry's wrist. "Bon." He stood up, walking towards the door to the small room. "Rester."

Henry watched him leave, searching for a way to leave. This stranger knew him, and had not taken him to a hospital – his first assumption was that the man knew his secret as well. He attempted to sit up, but the stabbing pain quickly convinced him to lie still.

When the stranger came in, carrying a bowl of water, he shook his head lightly. Sitting down beside the bed again, he took Henry's wrist and cleaned the rope burn; wrapping it in a thin bandage after.

Henry submitted to the man's examination in silence, identifying him as a physician. He watched the man warily, not trusting him. When the man lifted his shirt to check the stitches, Henry tensed and pulled away, lost in _pain, betrayal, agony, how could they do this, inhumane, cruel, please, __stop,__ kill me now –_

"...êtez calme. Bon, trés bon. Je suis Henri Mathieu. Vous êtez en sécurité..."

Henry grabbed the hand that held his own away from the stitches, mentally latching on to the French words – so out of place in his nightmare.

"Je suis sûre, oui? Vous ne mentez pas? S'il vous plaít – ne pas mentir... S'il vous plaít..."

"Oui, oui – vous êtez en sécurité. Je ne mens pas – jemais. Vous êtez en sécurité."

Henry sighed in relief. He wasn't sure why, but he believed this man – he had no choice at the moment, but he did. As he relaxed and let the man change the dressing on the stitches, he was grateful that he had spoken French; that the language was so foreign in the nightmare he was still escaping. The foreign language had cut through the ghosts faster than English would have.

When Mathieu finished, moving the bowl of water and soiled bandages to a side table, Henry finally spoke.

"I thank you."

Mathieu turned back with a small smile. "It is my duty – though it probably would be easier for you if I had left you to die again." He sat down beside Henry.

"...Die?"

"Yes – don't worry, your secret has always been safe with me." He shuddered.

"Always?"

"Oui – do you remember me?"

Henry slowly shook his head. "My apologies..."

Mathieu waved him off. "No – I don't know why you would anyway. Just because it's seared in my own mind doesn't mean you wouldn't want to forget about it." He sighed. "When you were held and...dissected, I was the boy that wasn't brave enough to free you."

Henry stared at the man, and Mathieu shifted away uneasily.

"Your name is French..."

"I changed my name after the event – they weren't pleased to have the possible key to immortality taken away from them; and I wished to put it behind me for good."

"Then..." Henry paused for a moment before continuing. "Please, just tell me – if I am to remain here, I wish to know. I cannot escape; I am in your control..."

"Non! Non – jamais!" Horror filled Mathieu's voice. "Never would I do such a thing – I am a doctor, promised to heal and to help!"

"But would it not help others if they were immortal?"

He shook his head emphatically. "If God wished man to be immortal, then he would have made us so – and no help is worth causing harm to another."

Henry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, relieved to see that the boy remained still in the man. "Thank you."

He looked away. "There is no need – I should have done more."

"More?"

"If I had even just given you the rope... I should have done more – you might remain physically unscarred by the deaths you have met, but you will never convince me that the scars do not still cut open your heart."

"Mathieu – you should never have killed me." _terror, pain, eternity, child, innocent, help, please_ "That was not your duty – you were to young to have to bear that burden. I should not have asked it of you." Henry struggled to ignore the ghosts that again crowded his mind.

He looked back in surprise. "Vous – you remember?"

Henry nodded slowly. _Make it stop, please, I can't, forever, can't_

"Then you know that I killed you?"

Henry nodded again, silent as Mathieu dropped his head into his hands.

"...How can you bear to be near me, to let me treat you?"

_no, no, no, can't, stop, will this ever stop, trapped, agony, terror _ "Because if you had not killed me then, I would have died when they were finished; only to be brought back in chains to do it again until either they died or found a way to permanently kill me."

"Then you don't blame me?"

"No." _innocent, forgive, help, no, won't, tired, scared, help, pain, thank you, sleep..._

Mathieu game a small smile. "And to think that I always pictured you hating me..."

"No – you were the only innocent there." Henry took a deep, if shaky, breath; wincing as it pulled the stitches. He glanced around the room, taking in the simple furnishings.

"Why did you not take me to a hospital, or even leave me there?" He asked, changing from the subject that neither of them wanted to revisit.

Mathieu shrugged, getting up to fetch a glass of water. "I didn't take you to the hospital for I was not certain that you would survive – and after the last time that happened, I really did not wish to have to kill you again. As for leaving you – I am a doctor. Even knowing that the patient will survive all is not an excuse for maltreatment." He held the glass up for Henry. "Only a little."

Henry took a small sip, savouring it. "Thank you." He gently motioned to the room, trying to avoid any discomfort. "But your room? Was that necessary?"

"Well, I couldn't very well leave you on the street!"

He frowned. "But where have you slept?"

"I've a bed set up in the corner; I will sleep there."

"And earlier? When you bound us together?"

"The last thing I wanted you to do was kill yourself after all the work I did to save you. The rope told me when you awoke; I knew you would need an explanation as soon as possible."

Henry nodded. "Then I will recover?"

"Perfectly, with nothing to show for it save a scar that won't be around long; I'm sure."

Henry nodded again, mulling everything over. "Then you were able to become a physician after all?"

"Oui. It took a long while and much work, but I did – and it was worth it. Et mille fois merci."

"I?" Henry pulled back in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"I might have given up my wish of medicine – especially after the inhumanity in that place – had it not been for you. You had always been kind; and worked to help everyone, no matter their station. You did the work of a surgeon and apothecary besides your better education of physician – you were something to live up to.

"That day, there were other doctors in the room, who could recite their terms and knew their anatomy – but there was only one real doctor in the room: his name was 'Henry'."

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_TRANSLATIONS:_

_"Non. Permetezz-moi d'aider." - "No. Let me help."_

_arretez – 'stop'_

_"Vous êtez calme, oui?" - "You are calm, yes?"_

_bon – good_

_rester – stay_

_"...êtez calme. Bon, trés bon. Je suis Henri Mathieu. Vous êtez en sécurité..." - "...are calm. Good, very good. I am Heni Mathieu. You are safe..."_

_"Je suis sûre, oui? Vous ne mentez pas? S'il vous plaít – ne pas mentir... S'il vous plaít..." - "I am safe, yes? You do not lie? Please – do not lie... Please..."_

_"Oui, oui – vous êtez en sécurité. Je ne mens pas – jemais. Vous êtez en sécurité." - "Yes, yes – you are safe. I do not lie – never. You are safe."_

_"Et mille fois merci" - "And a million times, thank you."_

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AN: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Gramercy, and God bless you!


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